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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26506489">The Omega Predicament</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JTLeigh2/pseuds/JTLeigh2'>JTLeigh2</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Foursome - M/M/M/M, Gay Sex, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Multi, Obsession, Omega Verse, Other, Possessive Behavior, Slavery, Threesome - M/M/M, m/m - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 02:31:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,155</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26506489</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JTLeigh2/pseuds/JTLeigh2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where omegas are sparse and birthing rates are in decline, a war sparks between two nations with opposing creeds. One man is caught between it all. (Rating might go up).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Omega Predicament</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi, everybody! </p><p>Okay, so here's the deal. I'm not sure if this is a story I want to pursue. Writing is a lot of time and energy that I don't have, and I thought that if I was going to put in the effort to write a full novel, I'd write something more publishable. BUT, I started writing what was supposed to be a fun, easy, no-strings-attached story about something I would like to read, and somewhere during the first chapter it just snowballed into a more complex idea! I know, I know - I'm a disaster!</p><p>Anyway, I'm going to post a chapter of this story every now and again (I'm only four chapters in so far, so I'll pace my posts), and see where I go. More than anything, I'd just like to see if I can write a decent story. So let me know your thoughts! I'm a sensitive soul, but I'm going to suck it up and read the feedback of anyone nice enough to leave me a comment.</p><p>Have a happy day!<br/>J. T. Leigh</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>PROLOGUE</b>
</p><p>Shadows born from a roaring fireplace slithered like wrathful serpents against the pretty, gilded walls of the parlour. Harlem bitterly pondered whether the lively gold patterns depicting roses and tiny birds against turquoise wallpaper was a vicious trick meant to lure unsuspecting guests into false contentment. In the light of day, the parlour was bright with unfiltered sunlight which glinted happily against the artful walls and expertly-placed refinery dotted around a much too large room. Even now, late into the evening with heavy dollops of rain lashing the window panes and the vicious dance of the ocean just visible through a black and grey storm, the room shone and breathed with easy tranquillity. </p><p>But despite the loveliness of their surroundings, sticky tension thickened the air more surely than the suffocating humidity that had plagued them all day. </p><p>Harlem tightened his hand against the lithe shoulder he held in support. His pretty husband glanced back at him through his lashes, a tight smile on those plump lips as he sipped sparingly at the tea he’d been served in ornate china. His Petar hated tea and Harlem suspected that he was only drinking it to hide the tight, displeased line of his mouth. </p><p>“I fail to see what the problem is,” Lord Karth drawled into his tumbler of some thick, unnamed liquor. He was draped by the fire in one of the many cushioned armchairs the room offered. The red of his hair, streaked sparsely with a ghostly white that spoke of his years, flamed brighter in the steady glow from the hearth. “Valeon was defending your son. The boy he scuffled with suffered no serious injury and his family has been paid handsomely for the misunderstanding.” </p><p>Quiet rage shuddered through Harlem and a small, cool hand grasped his own where it lay on his husband’s shoulder. The silent reminder was clear: <em>stay calm while they’re watching.  </em> </p><p>He took a slow, soothing breath of Petar's sweet scent which hitched only slightly on the way out, but he still caught the way the Duke smirked shamelessly into his liquor at his subtle upset.  </p><p>“Harry said that he and the boy were merely wrestling,” Petar responded with careful softness. “They were playing, as children do. There was nothing hostile about it.” </p><p>A mocking scoff tore their attention back to the long, relaxed figure of regal beauty lounging in an armchair across from her brother, pale blue eyes glinting eerily in the firelight. Like Karth, Lady Katrisha was curiously pale for a southerner, a trait passed down to the twins from their mother who, like Harlem himself, had hailed from the northern territories. Their flawless skin wasn’t quite the alabaster of Harlem’s people, but it was certainly paler than the lovely burnished hues common to their southern homeland. </p><p>“Perhaps the boy was not hostile, Mister Whitt, but you cannot deny that his actions were grossly inappropriate,” Katrisha sneered with mild distaste as she ran a manicured finger enticingly back and forth across the jewelled rope that adorned her clavicle. “For some common boy to put his hands so freely upon young Harry? At our own estate, no less. His actions were shameless and crass.” Red stained lips pursed and a pert nose turned up at the very notion, but something like suppressed amusement glittered behind it all. </p><p>Harlem privately thought that the twins were something like cruel cats. Beautiful and vain, they toyed with their food for sport until they grew bored. Despite their sleek manoeuvres and sharp claws, it was the hunt that they lusted for so keenly. </p><p>“Then you admit that Valeon beat that boy out of petty jealousy?” Petar murmured, unmoved.  </p><p>“We admit no such thing,” Katrisha answered easily, a sweet smile sparking at her lips. “Valeon saw Harry at the mercy of another, and he stepped in as any honourable young man would do. The fact that the boy deserved the admonishment was simply our good fortune.” </p><p>Harlem didn’t believe for a second that Harry had appeared to be in genuine trouble, and only a fool would think that the Duke and Duchess had fallen for the tale either. It was not his place to defend the boy who left White Haven today ripe with superficial bruises that spoke more of a warning than a genuine effort to injure, but he’d be damned if he let them spew their pretty lies without contest. </p><p>“This is not the first event like this,” Harlem argued from behind his husband’s high-backed chair. Petar squeezed his hand again in warning, but Harlem ploughed on anyway. “Every day since your sons laid eyes on him, I have seen our Harry twist into something cruder and more isolated. He shows hardly any interest in playing with the other children his age. He lies and manipulates. He is constantly skipping his own hard-bought lessons for adventures with little lords he refuses to name.” Harlem felt his voice rising, strategy be damned. “He does not play nor eat nor study nor sleep without first seeking<em> their </em>approval. He resists doing anything, taking any independent action, that was not first put in his young mind by the three of them!” His voice was something booming that he could not truly hear past the roar of his own tangible adrenaline now. “It is <em>sick</em>,” he spat, undoubtedly red-faced and ugly. “He’s a child who doesn’t know any better and they are young men who do, and it is <em>sick</em>! They prey on him, watching him grow, eager to get their hands on him and <em>you know it</em>! You encourage it! Harry is a child!” </p><p>He cut himself off with his fingers pinched to his nose and eyes squeezed shut. His pulse was cantering in his ears so loudly that he thought he might pass out but for the smaller hand squeezing his own tightly enough to ground him. He focussed on those cool fingers, forcing himself to deepen the short, gasping breaths that were shuttering through his nose until they evened out.  </p><p>When he had regathered himself, regret already coursing through him for not letting Petar handle their careful play, he thought he might just explode again upon catching sight of two smug faces watching him with identically pale, laughing eyes, their straight, aristocratic features patently unbothered.  </p><p>They were not even moved enough to bother denying it.  </p><p>“Harry is eleven summers now, is he not?” Lady Katrisha asked idly. “He is likely on the cusp of presenting, Mister Whitt. Perhaps you have not considered that it is in your favour for Harry to have such strong role models and protectors as he grows into his maturity.” She said it smoothly, like a gentle prompt for a madman to see simple logic, and Harlem hated himself because he’d played right into their hand. </p><p>He forced himself to speak lightly. “And why would my son need <em>protecting, </em>Lady Katrisha?” he asked through admittedly gritted teeth. </p><p>He wanted her to say it. He wanted her to admit why her sons clung to his Harry so greedily. </p><p>The Duchess quirked a slender, auburn brown at him and her lips tilted impishly. “My, my, dear Scribe,” she drawled sweetly. “Don’t play coy with me. It doesn't suit you.” </p><p>He hoped he looked more unimpressed than he felt.</p><p>“You believe Harry will present as an omega,” Petar said softly, putting aside their growing discord to assert what they were all thinking.  </p><p>They had no proof, of course, that Harry would present as an omega when puberty took him. It was simply one of those unspoken assumptions made while gradually watching him grow from a tiny babe to a petite, lovely boy who smelled of home and who smiled so sweetly. There was a preciousness to Harry that people instinctively associated with omegas, and most assumed that his presentation as one was inevitable.  </p><p>Including, unfortunately, his fathers. </p><p>“Of course Harry will present as an omega,” a light, smiling voice interrupted from the foyer. </p><p>Lord Karth and Lady Katrisha quickly stood, their mocking superiority and cunning guile falling away like a torn veil. Harlem suspected Katrisha might have even smiled genuinely, brief though it was.  </p><p>Lady Louisa - “<em>Please, I beg you, call me Louisa in my own home!” -  </em>was everything that her spouses were not. She was as dark as they were fair, with hair in sprightly curls that defied the little adornment that she bothered to add to them. Unlike her lavish and bejewelled wife who wore a royal blue gown with gold stitching that set off the dark red of her hair, Louisa only wore a simple dress in sunshine yellow which did absolutely nothing flattering for her complexion, but did brighten the pink in her cheeks and the easy smile on her lips.  </p><p>Louisa was on the arm of her other husband, Lord Endor, whose hazel eyes paired with the glowing gold-brown skin of the south and salt and pepper hair might have made him unlike his younger twin siblings had they not been so alike in almost every other conceivable way.  </p><p>The twins and Harlem bowed their heads politely to Louisa, the former only remaining standing long enough for Endor to settle his wife on a nearby settee before taking his seat next to her. Harlem took some small solace in looking down on them all.  </p><p>“Personally, I look forward to him joining our little club,” Louisa laughed, winking at Petar with warm camaraderie. </p><p>Harlem cleared his throat, a sliver of cool relief sliding through him at Louisa’s rational presence. She was far more reasonable and empathetic than her noble-born spouses.  </p><p>“Your sons clearly intend to name Harry their betrothed,” Harlem said boldly.</p><p>His proclamation silenced the room more effectively than his yelling ever could have accomplished. Petar did not so much as twitch in his chair, but Harlem strongly suspected that his clever husband was internally cursing him to a cold bed for his reckless dim-wittedness. </p><p>They all knew it was true, whether the young heirs themselves had ever said it aloud or not – but saying it now was certain taboo. They would wait until Harry had presented as an omega, until his ability to bear little heirs for the Dukedom of Prath was certain, and then they would brand him as their intended. He would be hoarded at their fortress-like estate, untouched by anyone and coveted by all until he came of age to marry. He would be groomed and guided and moulded as they saw fit, and Harlem would not be able to do a damn thing to stop it, all because his beautiful son had been young and lovely and malleable enough to catch the eyes and the desires of the most powerful little lords in the country. </p><p>“They might,” Louisa hedged hesitantly. “Would that be so terrible?”  </p><p>She looked hopeful, her wide eyes gentle and imploring. But while Harlem knew she was fond of Harry, he also knew she was pleading with him more to sate her sons’ own happinesses.  </p><p>“Louisa,” he started gently, aware of the sharp glares aimed his way by her prickly spouses at his familiarity. “How do you expect my son to grow into his own person under the suffocating embrace of three possessive and watchful suitors armed with the authority of Prath?” </p><p>The Dukedom of Prath was, after all, outclassed only by the Crown itself. Many argued that even the Crown bent to the will of Prath – easily the kingdom’s most prominent source of wealth and military power. </p><p>Louisa had pursed her lips and didn’t quite meet his gaze. Many mistook the lady’s gentle nature for naivety, but her sharp intelligence and fierce independence was cleverly hidden behind every token smile. He got the distinct impression that she knew exactly how suffocating her sons’ behaviour was, and she might have been nearly as unimpressed as he and Petar were.  </p><p>But she also willingly married three nobles who were just as overwhelmingly sly and possessive as the heirs she bore them.  </p><p>Perhaps sensing his wife's conflict, Endor slid into the conversations smoothly. “And what do you propose we do to put your concerns at ease, Mister Whitt?” His tone was easy and light, as if everything could be solved if they were simply civil enough. </p><p>Harlem swallowed hard but was sure to keep his face blank of any misgivings. “I’m afraid we’re quite past that now, Your Grace.” Petar nodded his agreement at that, hiding a tick in his jaw around another sip of tea. “I have been offered a research position at The Sanctuary which I intend to accept. I am officially tending my resignation from my post as Scribe, and Petar and I will be moving our family to the Capital in the coming weeks.” </p><p>Lousia looked shocked, Endor mildly blank, but Karth and Katrisha wore expressions that were downright appalled.  </p><p>“You are a scribe, not an academic,” Lord Karth spat, his top lip curled back in disgust. “What pitying scholar from that dusty, old guild would offer an injured soldier such a position with hardly a decade of scribe work under his hat?” </p><p>It was more of a scathing remark than an actual question, but Harlem silently conceded that Karth had a point. He was overwhelmingly under-qualified and it had indeed taken the pity of old comrades-in-arms from the war to acquire such an offer.</p><p>He was not above sacrificing his pride for his family.  </p><p>“And how do you expect to climb about that tower of old scrolls with mismatched limbs?” Katrisha sneered cuttingly. “You are unequipped for the demands of such a role, and you know it.” </p><p>Harlem resisted the urge to sneer back, his one war-warped leg suddenly heavy beneath him. Her remark resembled an immature slight, but it was a rather clever dig at his greatest insecurity: the wounds that had forced him to abandon his brothers in a losing war for a life of gentility.  </p><p>“I will manage,” he responded lightly. </p><p>Lousia’s eyes were flicking worriedly back between himself and Petar, the conversation around her apparently ignored.  </p><p>“You intend to move Harry away,” she murmured sadly. “Has it really come to this?”  </p><p>Harlem softened, but it was Petar who spoke – compassionate, but considerably less swayed by the gentle sadness of a fellow omega. “The Capital is not far,” he reasoned in that eternally soft, sweet voice of his that embodied calmness. It was the voice that chased away all of Harlem’s fiercest regrets. “Your children will be welcome to visit us from time to time. But the space will allow Harry room to grow. Or space for them to grow apart should Harry not present as an omega after all.” </p><p>Several sets of eyes shifted around the room at that, equal parts incredulity and caution. Nobody truly believed that Harry wouldn’t present as an omega, but the nobles would not be so reckless as to preemptively stake a claim on an unpresented child.  </p><p>Lousia licked her lips, nodding a little at the argument. Harlem could see the logic winning her over, the prospect of protecting an omega she cared for prevailing over the instinct to dote too extensively on her sons. </p><p>But Harlem had perhaps failed to adequately prepare himself for Lord Endor’s silent observation. </p><p>If the twins were like cats, Endor was a serpent. He was the quiet, sly creature that would watch and listen from places unseen, only striking when he saw a killing blow. Sometimes, one wouldn’t even realise he’d struck until his venom had seared away any chance one had of fighting back. </p><p>“And what of Mallory?” Endor queried, his gentle concern so convincingly authentic. “It seems rather cruel to tear apart two such fierce friends.” </p><p>Harlem pursed his lips. <em>“Friends?”  </em>he stressed lightly. “Is that what they are?” </p><p>The relationship between Mallory and Harry, both still too young to read much into, was a rather ambiguous matter that he and Petar had pondered over often. Like Harry, Mallory – the youngest heir and only daughter to the Dukedom of Prath – portrayed a number of omega-like traits. Should she and Harry both present as omegas, it was unlikely that either would take much interest in marrying one another. However, if Mallory were not to present as an omega after all, there was still no guarantee that she would share her brothers’ interests in claiming Harry.  </p><p>Alternatively, she could still very well mature into a young woman who was just as unwaveringly interested in Harry as her three older brothers were. </p><p>Lousia, apparently tiring of their cat and mouse games upon learning that they would be losing Harry for the foreseeable future, huffed impatiently at them. “At present, yes. They are simply friends.” She waved off the notion. “Whether Mallory chooses to uphold the Civeth Code in the future is inconsequential. She does not have a fraction of the character that her brothers share which concerns you so deeply.” </p><p>“She takes after her Mama,” Katrisha smirked, looking fondly at her wife who shot back a sweet but still-grim smile. </p><p>“You would be content with that? If Mallory were to turn down her title?” Petar asked. </p><p>Lousia let loose a light laugh, weak in humour. “Of course. She wouldn’t be first noble unsuited to uphold the Code.”  </p><p>The easy expressions on her spouses faces confirmed that they were in agreement on the matter. </p><p>While it was by no means unheard of for a noble to turn down the title owed to them by refusing the Code, it was something of a surprise that such a prideful family would so easily contemplate one of their own straying from tradition.  </p><p>The Civeth Code prescribed that all heirs to a noble title be united in marriage to a single partner – just as Endor, Karth, and Katrisha had wed only Louisa. The practice overwhelmingly prevented succession disputes and any inevitable fighting or foul play among greedy family members. Heirs were parented equally among siblings and titles passed seamlessly from one generation to the next. As such, if Mallory chose not to share a marriage bond and any subsequent heirs with her brothers, she would have to completely and eternally forfeit her birthright of Duchess.  </p><p>Karth huffed in mild offense, no doubt reacting to Petar and Harlem’s sceptical silence. “She is a clever girl with enough self-assurance to determine precisely what she wants. Naturally, if she chose to forego her birthright in favour of an alternate path and a separate marriage, she would be earmarked an appropriate inheritance for a woman of her standing. We would support her however she needs.” </p><p>It was a surprisingly heartfelt speech from Lord Karth who, like his sister, rarely swayed from his scathing or slyly disparaging median. </p><p>“Regardless,” Endor began again, smoothing a curl off his wife’s face as if he had never been interrupted, “whatever they might be to each other in the future, Harry and Mallory have been each other’s closest confidants since they were babes. Separating them seems unduly harsh.” </p><p>Harlem opened his mouth to counter, because obviously Harry would benefit from making some new friends when he was free from the jealous hovering of his three unsolicited chaperones, but Endor was not about to humour his interruption. </p><p>“And then there is Marcius, of course, who can hardly find the time to visit his own home and family around his heavy workload at the university and his ceaseless duties as heir – let alone the impossibility of making extended trips to the Capital to visit young Harry before the child outgrows every fading memory of him.” </p><p>This time Petar took a breath to interrupt but Endor only spoke more quickly, his unwaveringly light tone a testament to his ability to control both the conversation and his own perfectly emotionless acuity. </p><p>“Of course, Marcius’s sparse time is only cause for a fraction of the distress that Harry’s departure will surely cause Kingston. Not yet one full year in the barracks and the greatest source of comfort awaiting him safely in the bosom of his home is towed from his reach. I can hardly imagine how much worse it will be once he is sent to the Front, knowing too-well that whether he lives or dies fighting in this damnable war, his Harry will be steadily forgetting him and his heroism elsewhere, and certainly not ready and willing to embrace him should he return to us alive.” </p><p>Something cold panged through Harlem. It was an underhanded tactic, to use a soldier’s sense of brotherhood and family against him, but Endor said it like he was musing over weather patterns.</p><p>Pensive. Introspective. As if they were not balanced on a narrow beam of secrets and lies.  </p><p>“Valeon, I suppose, should fare the best in Harry’s absence. But we all know he is a recklessly emotional young man. He might very well tear himself apart instead.” </p><p>Endor’s eyes, until now focussed idly on the battering flames in the fireplace, drifted down to Louisa who had curled unconsciously into his side. He skimmed his lips lovingly against her temple, her dark skin and trouble eyes glowing pleasantly in the firelight, and something clicked in Harlem’s mind.  </p><p>Endor did not need to convince him and Petar to stay, not if he could convince Lousia to <em>not let them go. </em>And what better way to persuade a mother to be selfish than to convince her of a very real threat to her own children’s well-being. </p><p>“It will be heartbreaking for them all, but doable, I suppose.” Endor’s voice was nearly a croon, hypnotising in its complacency. “Naturally, I assume you’ve already accounted for the risks associated with the ongoing Omega Predicament? With such a low population of omegas, you would surely not take our dear Harry from a secure environment and thrust him in the limelight of the Capital with only his parents and younger siblings to protect him from... unseemly admirers.” </p><p>Endor trailed off with a polite, patient smile, so different from the shark-like grins on his sibling’s faces.  </p><p>Harlem and Petar were on a ledge and, judging by the stiff shoulder beneath Harlem’s palm, they both knew it. There was no adequate response to the seemingly gentle, concerned prompt. Harlem was a well-off man, paid handsomely for his sacrifices in the war and then his profitable work as a scribe – in the employ of the Dukes and Duchesses of Prath, no less. An elegant townhouse in an upstanding part of the Capital, he could afford. But another fully guarded, cliffside fortress? Of course that was beyond his means.  </p><p>“I’m sorry, Your Grace, but that is not your issue with which to be concerned,” he said eventually. “Like any other omega, Harry will be perfectly safe and content with his family in the Capital. You and your children are most welcome to visit.” </p><p>Harlem kept his eyes on Louisa, firmly aware of exactly who held all the power in this negotiation. Endor had made an exceedingly clever argument, but Harlem was <em>right </em>and Lousia was <em>smart</em>. She stared right back at him, her graciousness having fallen away in favour of the rapid, calculating thoughts churning beneath her gaze. </p><p>“I understand your concerns, Harlem. I even share them,” she said carefully. “If Harry is to someday become consort to the House of Prath, it is equally important to us that an independent, strong-minded young man is making that decision. My children do not need more sheep to placate them.” Karth look like he resolutely disagreed with that and Katrisha just looked sour, but they held their tongues just long enough for Louisa to add, “But--”  </p><p>“I wholeheartedly agree that our omegas deserve every opportunity to thrive as the unique individuals that they are,” Petar interrupted smoothly. “That is, after all, the very purpose of this long and bloody war that we have sacrificed so much for.” He turned to give Harlem an acknowledging nod for his service, a subtle yet beautifully-enacted reminder to the room that the nobles could not touch Harry without aligning themselves with the treasonous, repellent creed of their enemy across the border. </p><p>Louisa’s eyes narrowed at Petar’s subtle warning. “Of course we would never seek to hinder Harry’s individuality,” she rallied, her tone colder and her countenance uncharacteristically formal. She was no longer their ally. “But you must admit, Misters Whitt, that the Capital is no place for innocent children, particularly an omega. Prath offers many lovely villages that could make an ideal locale to raise a family.” </p><p>It would be a tempting thought if Harlem were a fool. The Capital may have been dirty and filled with copious amounts of society’s sleazy underbelly, but anywhere in Prath would still be under the thumb of its heirs. If they stayed within the province, Harry would remain an enamoured and naïve child, simpering at the heels of his strong, noble idols. </p><p>“Harry is not yet an omega,” Harlem countered. “And the Capital has the best protection Salus has to offer.” </p><p>“Prath <em>is </em>the best protection Salus has to offer,” Karth snapped back at him. “It will serve you well to remember that it is <em>our </em>military and gold that drives the Crown’s defences, Sirs.”  </p><p>It was a reminder and a threat: the Lords and Ladies of Prath did not have to negotiate with the likes of them.  </p><p>They were at a stalemate.  </p><p>“I propose a compromise,” Endor murmured, breaking the terse silence with calm but gentle authority.  </p><p>Petar’s shoulder ticked beneath Harlem’s palm. Katrisha continued to glare at them with a fierceness befitting a scorned match. </p><p>“You may move Harry and your family to the Capital with our blessings and full support,” Endor went on, the twins straightening with uncharacteristic surprise and strongly characteristic disgust. “And in return, you will promise to return to Prath with Harry the moment his change is upon him.” </p><p>Harlem’s furrowed brow mirrored Petar’s. “That could be anywhere from a matter of months to a number of years,” Harlem muttered.  </p><p>“That is the time we offer you,” Endor supplied.  </p><p>Louisa looked contemplative. “If you don’t mind my asking, at what age did you present, Petar?”  </p><p>Petar was still for a moment as if he were weighing the value of lying, but then simply responded, “I was fourteen.” </p><p>Three years of separation, if Harry were to take after his papa. Would it be enough to weaken his deep-rooted attachment to the heirs of Prath? </p><p>“If Harry presents early, such a compromise would fall overwhelmingly in your favour,” Harlem noted aloud.  </p><p>Endor just lifted his shoulder in a shrug as if it were a were a small matter that couldn’t be helped. His fingers were lightly stroking his wife’s curls from where he’d settled the troubled Lady’s head comfortably against his shoulder.  </p><p>Thankfully, Harlem had married a man cleverer than himself.</p><p>“No visits,” Petar suggested. “If you are only granting us this time until Harry presents, then we want that time to be free from the persuasions and manipulations of your children.” Louisa jolted, displeased with the idea. “And when Harry does present, we <em>will </em>bring him to you, as you ask. But whether we stay here will be up to Harry and no one else. If he rejects the prospect of a betrothal, you <em>will </em>allow us to leave Prath and your children behind forever.” </p><p>Pride tightened in Harlem’s chest. Petar was spectacular. </p><p>“And what is to stop you from planting poisonous ideas in the boys head about us?” Katrisha spat as Louisa floundered a little for words. </p><p>“Why should we do that? Harry won’t do better than a betrothal to the House of Prath,” Petar responded impatiently. “We do not oppose any interest in him when he is of marrying age. But at present, Harry is far too susceptible to the influences of far older, smarter, possessive young men who see him as some sort of prize that they can keep in a gilded cage until he is ready for them.<em> My son will not be their puppet</em>.” </p><p>Harlem swallowed, his chest uncomfortably full and his cock uncomfortably impressed. </p><p>Petar was so fucking spectacular. </p><p>“And if Harry accepts, how long should my heirs expect to endure a betrothal? What is ‘marrying age’?” asked Endor. </p><p>Petar considered this. “Twenty-one.” </p><p>Karth sneered. “Sixteen. </p><p>“Eighteen at the<em> earliest</em>. Assuming Harry is not opposed.” </p><p>"Fine,” Louisa interjected. “You will leave for the Captial with Harry until his presentation is upon him. None from our House will intrude upon your life there until your return to Prath. And Harry will,<em> of course</em>, be free to make his own life choices at that time.” She nodded as if still trying to convince herself that it was a good plan. </p><p>“<em>But</em>,” Endor added, for the first time dropping his calm pleasantness to pin Harlem and Petar with a look that was as cold as ice but twice as frigid, “until the time that Harry accepts or rejects any arrangement proposed to him by the House of Prath, you will not entertain any other suitors, and Harry will remain untouched.” </p><p>It was a disturbing demand, to brazenly order a father to keep his son virginal so that his own heirs might be the first to lay their hands on him. </p><p>“Naturally, like any decent parents, we will strive to maintain Harry’s innocence while he is still a child,” Petar answered, sounding perhaps a bit affronted. “But make no mistake, Lord Endor. Once Harry is grown, we will not take away his choices.” </p><p>Endor’s amusement was icy. “Then any blood that spills will be on your hands.” </p><p>Endor’s words lingered through their polite goodbyes and followed them out into the night, the threat like a tight chill that seemed appropriate amidst the cool storm that raged on the ocean air.  </p><p>When they returned home, their children had long since been put to sleep, late as it was. Unsurprisingly, Harry had escaped his room to curl up by a large window where he had undoubtedly settled to watch the storm rage in earnest. His rumpled hair glowed like ivory in the dark room, set off further by dark, slashing brows and the lashes that fell heavily against what were unusually deep sapphire eyes. Even slack with sleep, Harlem could make out the small impression of charming dimples, and those full lips, so pink they might have been stained by berries on anyone else, were a stark contrast to the glow of his pale skin. He was Petar coloured in shades of Harlem; all the prettiest angles and all the colours of home. </p><p>Harlem told himself that Harry would be just fine. He would be safe, he would be happy, and he would grow into an individually-minded, bold young man who would not bend to the selfish desires of nobles, no matter how powerful those nobles might be.  </p><p>Their life in the Capital would be good. Their family would thrive. </p><p>And he was right. </p><p>At least, he was right up until the war reached the Capital three years later. </p>
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